d I in
this moorland house with three desperadoes and their armed servants?

I began to think wistfully of the police, now plodding over the hills
after my wraith. They at any rate were fellow-countrymen and honest
men, and their tender mercies would be kinder than these ghoulish
aliens. But they wouldn't have listened to me. That old devil with
the eyelids had not taken long to get rid of them. I thought he
probably had some kind of graft with the constabulary. Most likely he
had letters from Cabinet Ministers saying he was to be given every
facility for plotting against Britain. That's the sort of owlish way
we run our politics in the Old Country.

The three would be back for lunch, so I hadn't more than a couple of
hours to wait. It was simply waiting on destruction, for I could see
no way out of this mess. I wished that I had Scudder's courage, for I
am free to confess I didn't feel any great fortitude. The only thing
that kept me going was that I was pretty furious. It made me boil with
rage to think of those three spies getting the pull on me like this. I
hoped that at any rate I might be able to twist one of their necks
before they downed me.

The more I thought of it the angrier I grew, and I had to get up and
move about the room. I tried the shutters, but they were the kind that
lock with a key, and I couldn't move them. From the outside came the
faint clucking of hens in the warm sun. Then I groped among the sacks
and boxes. I couldn't open the latter, and the sacks seemed to be full
of things like dog-biscuits that smelt of cinnamon. But, as I
circumnavigated the room, I found a handle in the wall which seemed
worth investigating.

It was the door of a wall cupboard--what they call a 'press' in
Scotland--and it was locked. I shook it, and it seemed rather flimsy.
For want of something better to do I put out my strength on that door,
getting some purchase on the handle by looping my braces round it.
Presently the thing gave with a crash which I thought would bring in my
warders to inquire. I waited for a bit, and then started to explore
the cupboard shelves.

There was a multitude of queer things there. I found an odd vesta or
two in my trouser pockets and struck a light. It was out in a second,
but it showed me one thing. There was a little stock of electric
torches on one shelf. I picked up one, and found it was in working
order.

With the torch to help me I investigated further